


Patience is a virtue

by Superbanana



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, I dont think I could write any other sort of smut, In which Patsy is an idiot, delia is stubborn, make-up sex, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 03:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10608585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superbanana/pseuds/Superbanana
Summary: After an argument Patsy is left to step up and make it up to Delia. That is, of course, if she could find a moment alone to talk to the frustrating Welshwoman.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because Delia's strut up to Patsy in the series 6 final has been in my head since I first saw it. The woman has sass and I just wish they let it show a bit more during their interactions. It's always Patsy being snappish and Delia forgiving her. While I understand why this dynamic works and why Patsy behaves in this way I still find it slightly unbelievable that Delia would never get frustrated (ignoring the one 'we don't like cake' scene') as Delia is clearly a very forceful character, I mean she left Wales to live life in the big city against her mothers wishes!
> 
> Also there is smut but I'm pretty sure it's terrible and short and I apologise for the more clinical language; I just hate the word pussy and I cant imagine either of these characters using any of that kind of language. None the less, enjoy people.
> 
> SB

Names are always a bit of a strange business. Back in Shanghai, before the war, there had been something of a fad amongst the upper class ladies to name their daughters after virtues. Sturdy, solid sorts of names like Prudence or Hope, Charity or Mercy, Faith or Verity and, of course, Patience. Subsequently, there had been numerous girls in her youth, at the boarding schools her father had sent her to so that they could continue to politely avoid each other, that had shared a wistful smile with Patsy about the natural humour to their shared situation, the ironies of foolish names. 

In the nature of such ironies Prudence was currently a mother of eight and counting, Hope was a manic depressive, Charity expected a pounds change from 75 pence, Mercy was a prize sword fighter with a dirty upper cut, Faith was a scientist, Verity was currently serving time at her majesties pleasure in Holloway for fraud and Patience... Patience was very definitely not feeling the virtue of her name sake.

It had started with an argument. Her fault of course. Wasn't it always? But unlike previous arguments they'd had Delia had not acted as the unofficial referee to their repartee, had not left her door ajar in case Patsy wanted to tip toe in to whisper mumbled apologies. Patsy knew that she had hurt Delia, knew she had to attempt to make amends but so far the appropriate moment had yet to present itself and, boy oh boy, wasn't Delia making her very aware of her disappointment at this lack of action on Patsys part. Not through words of course, neither of them were too far gone to have forgotten the practicalities surrounding their relationship (if they even happened to still be in one she thinks with a sinking heart) but the small interactions Patsy had managed to orchestrate have been nothing short of painful. 

Delia has not been as obvious as to blank her entirely, in fact she has been perfectly polite, in a brittle, how was your shift sort of way. In the same way she would with any colleague or distant acquaintance in fact. Polite and distant. And hell if that didn't sting.

Delia usually mopes when they argue, so does Patsy, its just what they do. They've always been hopeless at fighting, too much in love with each other, too eager to make up to hold onto anger. But not this time, this time Delia has not moped, in fact shes hardly been in her room except to sleep, her romance novels have been discarded in favour of "other things". Patsy has been studiously ignoring the possibilities of what that statement, idly thrown out during a casual enquiry from Trixie as they passed the Welsh woman on the stairs, could mean. 

The subject of her consternation has spent her days off out of the house. The odd meal time where they have been sat beside each other had been strained by the mere fact that Patsy wants nothing more than to grab Delia by the hand and beg for forgiveness and yet the only conversation of note that has happened between them has revolved, depressingly, around passing a batternburg that Sister Monica Joan had been coveting.

And why? Why had this unprecedented divide occurred? Because of a stupid argument over something none of the others would ever even consider. Something Patsy would always need to think of, namely, the need to always be careful. 

It had been their only day off together for weeks. Delia had been so busy with her midwife exams they'd barely had enough time for an odd kiss whenever the house was deserted. The seperation had worn on them both. Had made them reckless and more than a little desperate. Delia was always the more demonstrative one out of them both whereas Patsy will always much prefer to wait until the perfect moment occured, they'd argued about it before. Patsy knew it hurt Delia when she pushed her away but could see no way of preventing it. She had to keep Delia safe, she could not bare to be the one who brought the woman into disrepute.

She'd been in the shed, picking out muddy bulbs from great hessian sacks that she'd somehow been ringed into planting before her planned afternoon with Delia. There had been no one else in the garden. Mrs B had just brought around a stack of fresh crumpets and those not out on the district rounds were ensconced at the kitchen table. They'd be out soon enough though, the younger women sunbathing in the weak April sunlight and the nuns bustling about their sacred duties.

It had been a surprise when a hand had wrapped around her middle therefore and a low Welsh voice whispered seductively into her ear,"well now, I do believe Patience Mount that you and I are quite alone for once". Delia. 

Patsy had smiled as she'd turned into the womans strong arms. Her Welsh fire cracker finally in her grasp after what felt like months with nothing but promises and sly stolen glances in front of the television surrounded by nuns. Delia's thoughts must have been travelling along the same lines because when she stood closer and tugged Patsy down for a kiss there was an edge of desperation to it. Patsy had kissed her back just as hungrily at first, pushing her hands to Delias sides and pulling her nearer so they were touching hip to hip, breast to breast. They had stood there, hidden by the comforting thickness of the shed door, holding each other, happy to have a few stolen moments where they did not need to pretend. 

Eventually though, her natural instinct told her they needed to stop. The others would be out in the garden soon. Delia, it seemed, had little interest in this course of action though. As if she could read Patsys mind, could sense Patsys inevitable detachment she deepened the kiss, her tongue stroking Patsys in a way that made Patsys insides burn and writhe.

"We need to stop" She'd mumbled heavily as she felt Delia grasping clumsily at her hands, the pleading tang in her kisses.  
"Please Pats, I just need this, it's been weeks." Her voice had been rough, coaxing even as she dragged Patsys right hand lower, drawing it to the hem of her dress, ruffling the material roughly, pulling her in tighter so that Patsy could feel the damp patch between Delias legs at the seam of her knickers.

"Deel's we can't,' she'd been pleading then, hating herself for being sensible when all she really wanted was to bolt the door and rip the pretty turquoise dress off her girlfriends all too willing body. Delia had ignored her, had stifled any further objections with another burning kiss even as she'd lent back, pulling Patsy with her to rest against the wall her hand still clasping Patsy's; rubbing Patsy's fingers insistently along the soft edge of her pants, stroking the wanting flesh through the thin layer of fabric as she breathed shakily.

"Deel's, we really can't. Not now." Patsy could barely get the words out, the flush of blood had risen in her chest even as she felt her fingers curl involuntarily, questing for the edge of Delias knickers, her errant digits apparently as disinterested in personal safety as Delia was. Delia loosened her grip on Patsy's hand, moved to her wrist instead, pulling insistently on the joint with a level of intent that made Patsy's mouth become dry even as her tongue slowly swiped at Delia's neck to taste the salty tang of sweat building there.

"I need this' it had been a whisper, a heated request from Delia as Patsy felt her fingers twitch past damp material to stroke swollen flesh, the tip of her index finger grazing the stiff tip of Delias clitoris. Delia twitched in Patsys arms, her eyes impossibly blue, imploring as she spread her legs further to slide around Patsys hips. 'I need you to touch me Pats, I can't-" But the rest of it had been lost as voices had sounded from outside the shed. Freds unmistakable cockney tones travelling through the creaking wood. 

Patsy had drawn her hand away immediately as though burned and pulled Delia upright roughly, angry at the pair of them for such a dangerous indiscretion. Delia had taken a little longer to focus, her eyes glassy as she had righted her dress. Patsy had left first, dumping the pile of bulbs unceremoniously in front of a bemused Fred before stomping to her bedroom.

The ensuing argument had been the worst they'd ever had. Patsy had been incensed that Delia would be so careless and Delia had been equally angry although patsy had been so riled herself she had barely given Delias perspective much thought at the time. They had broken apart eventually both of them resentful at the others refusal to accept their arguments. The final words had been whispered by Delia, a notable occurrence in itself, usually it was Patsy who swept out; after a fight.  
"You drive me insane. I'm good enough for you when you judge it to be appropriate but the second the things I want put you at an inconvenience I'm the irresponsible one. Sometimes you are an absolute arse Patience Mount". And that had been that. Delia had stormed out and Patsy had smoked five cigarettes in quick succession, lighting the new one from the old, stubbing them out viciously as she had seethed to herself. How could Delia not understand that her responses were due to anything more than concern for their reputations? It had nothing to do with not wanting Delia however much the woman insisted on seeing it that way. Patsy had gone to sleep early that night consoling herself with the fact she would make it up to Delia the next day. Maybe suggest a trip to Gateways.

That had been three weeks ago. 

Delia had swapped her shifts the next morning with another nurse on her ward. She'd been gone when Patsy woke up and that had been that.

At first Patsy had not been too perturbed by this sudden silence. Delia always calmed down. Always. Except days turned into a week and then another. Even the news that Delia had passed her midwife exam had not bridged the silence. Delia had merely smiled to the table at large as Sister Julienne had enquired how soon she could begin work in poplar on the rota.

At the dawn of the third week Patsy had been forced to miserably consider that perhaps Delia truly had had enough of their ghost like relationship. Perhaps she had finally given in and decided to do as she had once threatened and chosen to look for a nice man to marry. Thoughroughly depressed by the thought, it had been with little energy she had prepared for clinic that Thursday. Delias room had been dark as she walked past, the light switched off and the sound of soft snores had drifted from under the door as its frustrating inhabitant dreamt of things that made Patsy's heart ache. She wondered how she would cope if Delia began walking out with some faceless man. She doubted she would survive it somehow.

The rest of the morning was a blur of activity that she clung to, falling back to old habits of avoiding unwanted emotions, anything to distract from her own situation. Poplar was in the grips of a baby boom, a result of a power cut that lasted two weeks last September and the strain on their already over burdened schedule was obvious. Barbara and Trixie were called away to difficult births early on in the day; a challenging breach birth and undiagnosed twins respectively. Sister Julienne had been forced to leave with a swooning pregnant woman with suspected appendicitis in the back of an ambulance and Patsy, frazzled and woe begone had been left to plough through the remaining women along with a flustered Valerie and a corpulent nurse Crane.

By two o clock, with no sign of the others imminent return and Valerie being called away to two women giving birth at the same time in a tower block the other end of Poplar nurse Crane had excused herself to call Nonnatus for back up. After a terse telephone conversation with sister Monica Joan where Keats and Poe were referenced only twice she had eventually got through to someone and breathlessly assured Patsy as she swept past carrying a tray of samples to the sluice that help was "on its way". 

Patsy had no time to speculate on how long their relief would take to turn up, the women of Poplar were all consuming and, on this day it seemed, never ending in their multitudes.

At four o clock Patsy was just leading a very heavily pregnant Mrs Dube out of the cubicle when she saw the back of a very familiar and distracting head. Delia was standing off to one side, speaking animatedly to one of Jodie Cockerills sons. The boy was raising his hand for Delias apparently rapturous attentions, clearly boasting a cut or graze he had recently acquired there. Patsys heart fluttered mutinously at the arresting scene. Delia was wearing a familiar powder blue uniform, her usual darker blue with red sashes discarded and looking truly happy for the first time in weeks. The dimples at her cheeks carving deep grooves in the corners of her mouth. 

It was precisely this moment that Delia chose to look past the boys excitedly bobbing head and caught Patsy's eye. If it wasn't for the very real possibility Mrs Dube would fall over if Patsy moved suddenly Patsy might have jolted at the contact like a plant kept in a box for days finally shown the sun again. Delia had not looked distant as she had done in recent days, instead her eyes had been a very familiar dark and Patsy had detected the hint of challenge in the set of her mouth and chin. The expression clearly expressed what they both knew, the ball was very definitely in Patsys court. She gulped as she safely deposited her charge to a vacant seat; her mind churning.

There was so many things she wanted to say to Delia. 'I'm sorry' was a good one but there were other things too that seemed just as important, 'I love you' was another and 'please don't leave me' definitely had a place as forerunners. The words, however, would be useless if Delia wouldn't listen. Patsy marshalled herself as she went through the motions of a stretch and sweep with a very uncomfortable Mrs Trillion who was currently overdue by a week, uncomfortable with the sheer magnitude of her jutting stomach and so flooded with hormones she was never far from tears or angry rebuttals. 

If she wanted Delia to listen she had to make the woman soften slightly. It would do no good if Delia made excuses to leave the second clinic ended. So Patsy tried her best to cross paths with Delia over the next three hours as much as possible. This was no mean feat in itself considering the mammoth task they were all undertaking. The first opportunity came as Delia passed through the narrow corridor to the sluice. Usually it was the routine that one would wait for whoever was in the passage to come through before making their own trip but Patsy, willing herself not to lose her nerve, stepped into the small space with purpose.

Delia was forced to turn as they drew nearer, the space constraints allowing no other means of passing one another and twisted so her back rested flush against the wall. Patsy turned too and as she did so allowed her hands to ghost across Delias stomach. The feeling was electric and did not appear, to her immense satisfaction, to be one sided. The tray in Delias hands rattled and her breaths stuttered as they separated, the moment passing in the blink of an eye. Patsy forced herself to keep walking as she felt curious eyes burning into the back of her head. 

She managed the corridor trick twice more. Each time her confidence in her plan solidifying even as her hands grew more adventurous. When her hand gently pulled over Delias bum on the third go she allowed herself to glance down at the woman who was so much a fixture in her mind. Delias eyes met her own, hot and slightly amused if the raised eyebrow was anything to go by. Neither of them said anything.

Emboldened by the lack of rebuttal Patsy allowed herself to consider other avenues of offence. She ensured her hand lingered more than was necessary when they were required to pass anything to each other. Memorising the strong shape of Delia's knuckles, the slight bend at the third joint on her little finger. The pièce de résistance was her boldest move yet; when Delia began to stack up chairs near the stage as the numbers of women finally began to dwindle Patsy let herself slide behind her on the pretense at rushing to the store cupboard for fresh linen despite the risk that someone might suspect, there were other routes less cluttered she could take after all. Patsy was throwing caution to the wind slightly and hoped that this alone would force Delia to thaw. As they squeezed against one another she pushed her hips forcefully to bump against the Welsh woman, holding herself slightly too long so that there was no way it could be considered accidental by the stubborn Welsh nurse. She was gratified when she received an immediate response to this more blatant move as Delia pushed back against her.

When the final woman waddled out of the front doors half an hour later the three midwives blew out the breaths they had been holding and swiped at sweaty foreheads, Patsy and Delia eyeing one another heatedly across the wide Hall. Nurse Crane was the first to speak, listing jobs to be done before they all turned in for the evening. She was barely into her flow however before the doors swung open loudly and a boy of about sixteen practically falling in his haste. Bent double and clutching a stitch in his side. He'd obviously run here and gasped out the message that his sister was in labour and needed a midwife immediately. Ever the stalwart soldier nurse Crane straightened and stepped forward to the task. Throwing the keys to the doors to Patsy with good accuracy she marched away, rummaging in her pocket for a barley sugar as she towed the panting boy towards her trusty car. Patsy shook her head despairingly at Poplars apparently insatiable need to breed even as she locked the main doors firmly behind her departing colleague.

It took a few moments for the realities of the situation to sink in fully. She was currently holding the keys to a locked building where no one was going to interrupt them. The others would surely go back to Nonnatus when they finished, grumbling at the poor time keeping of babies. She could be alone with Delia for as long as they wished. Her hands shake slightly as she slips the heavy keys into her pocket and tip toes back into the main hall. 

Delia is not there when she passes through the double doors but the tray of test tubes waiting to be sorted are gone and Patsy can hear the splash of running water through the door to the sluice. Blushing and willing herself not to let this opportunity be wasted she moves quietly to the small room.

The subject of her interest is standing at the meticulously clean sink, rinsing out test tubes and filing them neatly into the box stored in the clinical cupboard. She has to know Patsys come into the room, must feel the tension building in the air between them but she has yet to turn around and Patsy can feel her confidence in her plan falter at this lack of reaction. Patsy loiters at the doorway, shifting restlessly from one foot to another as Delia continues to blatantly ignore her presence.  
For a while the only sound is the glassy clink of the tubes as they scrape down their metal slots. The tap drips dolefully. Patsy lets herself drink in the sight of Delia as she bustles at her task enjoying the simple unguarded moment. She feels the lust snatch at her and smiles to herself at how hopeless they both are. Screwing up her confidence she steps over to Delia. Lets their bodies connect as she wraps her arms around the smaller woman's frame. Delia doesn't shake her off, doesn't give any signal that she's aware of the taller woman's existence, just keeps on scrubbing a little too hard at the glass vials in front of her. The tap is still dripping and there's the faint popping of the soap suds as they burst on the surface of the hot water.

Patsy doesn't rush, let's herself enjoy the rare feeling of her girl in her arms. Delia's warm and oddly hard for a woman. The warm curves of her hide the metal she wears underneath her skin and Patsy loves that she's the only one who knows this fact as well as she does. Delia is still scrubbing but the continued embrace of Patsy is beginning to make her clumsy. The charade slipping as the time ticks on. She's been scrubbing the same vial for five minutes before Patsy decides she should start upping her game slightly.  
Leaning down slightly she allows the faintest brush of her lips to ghost over Delia's neck. She can feel the fine hairs stiffen under her ministrations, the smattering of goosebumps that raise up in the smooth skin as the thoughroughly scrubbed vial slips from Delia's usually steady hands with a plop into the water. Delia's breathing has becoming harsher and Patsy places a gentle kiss to the smooth skin before dragging her mouth to rest beside the shell of Delia's ear.

"Nurse Bubsy,' Patsy's voice is low, just a whisper but there is no chance Delia cannot hear her, 'I'm afraid I have a problem,' she lets her hands slide to the front of Delia's uniform, fingering the small, smooth buttons there. 'You see, I'm suffering from a peculiar illness. I think I might need to examined and you are the only name that sprung to mind to help."  
Her hands have made short work of the buttons and are currently roaming against the thin layer of Delia's shift. Patsy has become a bit of an expert on Delia's underwear and knows that this shift has a zip down the left side. Deftly, she wraps herself a little tighter around Delia, searching for the tiny snippet of metal. 

Delia is smiling, Patsy can hear it in her voice when she replies, strong emotions bring out her accent more than anything. Her hands are curled around the rim of the sink, the knuckles white.  
"Well, we can't have that can we? What are the symptoms to this mysterious ailment Pats". Patsy's hands have found the zipper and its quickly slid down as she reaches to touch soft skin. The swell of a breast grazes the tops of her hands and she's quick to follow a path that allows her to fully cup them. God she loves this woman. Delia's got brilliant breasts, not too much to be over the top but bigger than Patsy's. Her mouth waters at the thought even as her fingers twist to tweak a stiffening nipple. Delia huffs at the movement and shifts her bum closer to Patsy, exerting pressure against her core, her head relaxing against Patsy's chest. She's clearly not impressed that Patsy has completely lost interest in their conversation though and repeats her last word. A prompt. "Pats?" She wants an answer and Patsy forces herself to slow down, to make her mind return to their game.

"Symptoms nurse? Well... sometimes my head inflates quite dramatically, my mouth seems to be possessed so that I say the stupidest things that make beautiful Welsh women think I don't fancy them anymore and a yellow streak about a mile wide that flares up from time to time and stops me from just admitting how much sorry I am for that . Do you have any thoughts on how I can cure myself?" Patsy expects Delia to laugh at her statement, expects to be called an idiot. What she didn't expect was for Delia to whisper 'Pats' softly and turn to face her with tears in her eyes. Immediately, Patsy removes her hands from inside the smaller woman's bodice and wraps her arms around her girlfriend in a tight embrace. It's a good hug. Cathartic. She feels Delia's head rubbing into her chest as she sniffles and wipes her eyes on the fabric. They both say the words "I'm sorry" at the same time and then they really are laughing and Delia's finally looking at her, the slight hint of mascara around her eyes smudging the lids and she's biting her lip in that way that makes Patsy's stomach flip flop.

They both lean into the kiss at the same time, their mouths soft, still a bit hesitant of one another's reaction. Its sweet really, that after so many years together every kiss is still a bit new. Delia tastes of the boiled sweets that she usually sneaks around in her pocket, Patsy reflects that for someone with only a mild sweet tooth, she has never loved the taste of sugar more. It's Delia who escalates the situation, forever the brave one out of them both and Patsy is happy to let herself be pulled to the side as Delia shuffles her bum onto the counter, Patsy wedged between her thighs. They're the same height this way.

Delia rakes her fingers through Patsy's carefully laquored hair and tugs her down for another kiss. This kiss is different, they're both losing control, their tongues pushing and pulling at one another. Delia's thighs are squeezing Patsy and Patsy can feel her own clenching right back as her careful control slips away. Patsy drags her hands up to the still unfastened opening in Delia's dress, is thankful her hands aren't shaking so much that she cannot fully undo the buttons so that Delia is suddenly, glorious exposed to her. Without thought she pulls her mouth from Delia's to kiss the skin of her throat, her chest, the perfect curve of her breast and the velvet softness of her nipple. As the first peak enters her mouth she feels Delia sigh above her, shifting restlessly. Hears, faintly and from somewhere far off it seems, the sound of shoes being slipped off a pair of feet and hitting the hard linoleum of the floor.

Patsy lets her hands drift underneath the hem of Delia's dress, grumbling when she meets resistance in the form of tights. Damn Trixie and her insistence that they all buy a few pairs of these monstrosities for work. Stockings were always a better option she reasons to herself dimly. With an immense effort she pulls her face away from Delia's chest to hike up the sitting woman's dress around her waist. Delia is still biting her lip as she watches Patsy but Patsy can barely focus on this arresting sight as she scrabbles at the edge of the tights and tugs them down with the same sense of urgency she usually reserves for cleaning the autoclave at the end of a busy shift. Its only when the elasticated nuisances are discarded haphazardly over Patsy's shoulder that she allows herself to take stock of the vision in front of her. The sight makes her knees tremble and starts up an insistent and distracting pulse between her own legs that forces her to press her thighs together tightly to subdue slightly.

Delia is sitting on the edge of the worktop, dress bunched up around her hips, dress front gloriously undone with her breasts jutting out, nipples shining from Patsy's saliva, hair tumbling from its tight bun and magnificently bared to her, the white cotton of her knickers is the only stitch on her bottom half and Patsy can see the very obvious darker patch on the fabric where it covers the place Patsy wants so very much to touch. Delia, for her part, is watching Patsy with hooded eyes, her chest rising and falling harshly as she sucks in deep mouthfuls of oxygen. Delia's excitement is obvious, Patsy can feel the same thrums of pleasure racing through her but it does nothing to hide the uncertainty, the worry, in the set of her jaw. It's as though Delia isn't sure that Patsy wants this, has doubts whether Patsy plans to do this every spare moment they can snatch. It's like the girl thinks Patsy might step away and walk back into the hall. The thought makes Patsy slow, placing soft kisses to Delia's face; her chin, her eyes, her jaw, the bridge of her nose.

Gentled, she pulls away the remaining barrier between them and lets her finger push into the swollen warmth of Delia's vagina. They both breathe harder at the feeling. Their mouths finding each other as Patsy slides in and out of the familiar flesh. Delia's breaths are stuttering and then lost as Patsy crooks her fingers, rubbing gently on the tiny smooth space of skin on her internal walls. Patsy doesn't rush. She tries to put all the words she's typically so terrible at saying into her actions. 'I love you', 'I'm never going to leave you', 'you are my entire world, don't you know that?' and Delia responds as though she can hear them all. Her mouth is harsh as she deepens their kisses, as she pulls and scratches Patsy's back, clutching at the fabric and whispers words Patsy doesn't understand but knows means that she is forgiven; ' Rwy'n dy garu di' and 'Rwy'n gweld dy eisiau di'.

When it all ends with Delia's walls squeezing around Patsy's fingers and Delia's sweaty forehead resting lazily on Patsy's shoulder Patsy doesn't move straight away. She lets her finger flex and feels the tremble of Delia fluttering against her. Delia's hands are stroking circles into the soft skin of her neck both of them breathing languidly. The tension of the previous three weeks is dissipating.

"I knew you'd get there in the end". The silence is broken by Delia's whisper and Patsy feels a rueful grin spread across her features lazily. She lets out a small laugh and shifts so Delia is looking at her again.  
"Was this a test?" she asks teasingly and Delia responds by grinning back with a knowing glint in her eyes.  
"Hmmm,' she sighs happily, 'in a way. I needed you to want me enough to make the first move I suppose". Patsy eyes soften at the vulnerability flickering in Delia's tone and rubs a bare thigh soothingly with her left hand.  
"Well? Did I pass your test Deels?" Her voice is soft as her fingers slide out of her girlfriends warm heat, the cold of the room making her fingertips tingle as they are released from their confinement.  
"Yes... I think so; for the most part. Except..." Delia's voice trails off as her touch grows a shade firmer on Patsy's bum, strong hands kneading the flesh firmly.  
"Except?"  
"Except. I'm not quite done with you Patience." The hand is much firmer now and Patsy blushes at the wolfish set to her girlfriends face.

Hopefully the others would assume they had gone out for a bite to eat after finishing up. She had the distinct feeling they were going to be here for quite some time yet.


End file.
